


Love, Lust Longing

by Venusdoom3



Series: Prompt Fics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism, Accidental Voyeurism, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, I'm not sorry, M/M, Mild Nat/Bruce, My first prompt fic, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sex Pollen, Shameless Smut, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, post-mission sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: "Ah..." Bucky licks his lips, looking at Steve, who swallows hard as their eyes lock."Uh-huh," is Steve's breathy response, and Nat falls back a step. The way they're looking at each other makes her feel absurdly voyeuristic, as if she's walked in on them in their bedroom. But surely they aren't going to–Oh. Maybe they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bev/gifts).



> Yay! My first prompt fic! Thanks, Bev! Sorry it took so long.
> 
> If anybody wants to throw a prompt at me (or whatever), I'm on [tumblr](https://venusdoom3.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Title from the Alison Smith poem of the same name.

"Cap? You copy?"

A cough comes over Natasha's comm earpiece, followed by a hoarse gagging noise, and she grimaces. "Copy," Steve replies, clearing his throat loudly. "We secured the building. There's nobody here, but it looks like they took off in a hurry." Steve coughs again, a deep, rattling thing, and Bucky's voice rings in Nat's ear.

"Hey, you okay, pal?"

"I'm good. That room full of plants was just really dusty."

"Ugh. I know. I got a lungful, too."

Sam pipes up as he swoops to the ground outside the building, metal wings folding in on themselves as he comes to rest beside Natasha. "What kind of plants?"

Bucky starts hacking dryly, making a harsh retching sound. "Fuck!" he spits. "We thought it might be a marijuana growing operation at first, but when we got in there to clear the room, we got a better look, and there were flowers, too. The whole place was covered in some kind of pinkish dust. I just sent a picture of one of the plants to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to analyze."

Both Steve and Bucky start coughing again, and Nat frowns, snapping, "The two of you, get out here! We need to get you on the Quinjet."

Steve gags again, growling in frustration. "We're on our way."

Back on the Quinjet, Sam slips into the pilot's seat and fires up the jet; meanwhile, Nat herds Bucky and Steve into the decontamination shower after insisting they remove and bag up their uniforms, and she turns to leave when they're down to their t-shirts and boxer briefs. "Damn good thing I didn't go commando today," Bucky cracks as she closes the door, and she makes a face at him through the small window.

Once the decontamination shower is complete and they're back in their skivvies and t-shirts, Nat straps oxygen masks onto the faces of a pair of slightly damp, blanket wrapped super-soldiers. "Take some deep breaths," she says as she straightens, peeling off the jacket of her uniform before taking a seat just a few feet away on the other side of the cabin. "We'll get you into your street clothes when you can breathe again."

"Okay," Steve says, his voice strangely faint.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., can I see the photo Bucky sent?" Nat calls, and a moment later, she scowls at the dusty-looking plant with oddly shaped leaves. Whatever this strange plant was, it nearly compromised two essential team members, and she has an urge to rip every last one of the damn things out of their pots by the root. _At least the choking and coughing has stopped,_ she thinks, glancing over at the two men wearing oxygen masks across from her. Steve and Bucky lean against each other as though exhausted, Steve's head resting on Bucky's shoulder, and Nat can't help smiling a little at how perfectly Steve's golden glow balances Bucky's dark, brooding aura.

"I feel funny," Steve says, sitting up straight, his blanket falling from his shoulders, and Bucky followed suit, giving a violent shiver.

"Yeah – so do I."

"Funny how?" Nat asks, immediately at their side, peering at their faces in turn. Their eyes appear darker than normal, but the difference is due to their radically dilated pupils; they both appear flushed, as well, and Nat tries and fails to keep her assessment clinical when she notices that both mens' nipples are erect, protruding against the thin fabric of their t-shirts.

"Ah..." Bucky licks his lips, looking at Steve, who swallows hard as their eyes lock.

"Uh-huh," is Steve's breathy response, and Nat falls back a step. The way they're looking at each other makes her feel absurdly voyeuristic, as if she's walked in on them in their bedroom. But surely they aren't going to–

Oh. Maybe they are.

Bucky casts aside his blanket and climbs atop Steve, straddling his lap, and Nat's mouth falls open as their mouths meet in a ravenous kiss, panting and moaning. Steve slides his hands down Bucky's back and grips his ass, and Bucky gasps and grinds his hips against Steve, throwing his head back to allow Steve to attack his throat with wet, sucking kisses.

" _Whoa_ ," Nat mutters. "Boys, any way you can wait till we get back to the compound?"

Neither man answers; they may not even hear her over the sound of their own heavy breaths and groans.

"Wilson, put her on autopilot for a sec and get back here," Nat calls.

Steve slips his hands beneath the waistband of Bucky's underwear, kneading Bucky's ass firmly as Bucky bends down to kiss Steve again, apparently intent on consuming his tongue, and that's the moment Sam unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to join them in the cabin. "What the actual fuck?" he cried, clutching Natasha's shoulder. The lovebirds paid him no mind; in fact, they cared so little about having an audience that when Bucky yanked off his t-shirt, Steve bent down to suck one of Bucky's nipples into his mouth.

Over the sound of Bucky's gasping moan, Nat murmurs to Sam, "It has to be whatever they breathed in back there. I ran them both through decon and gave them oxygen, but a minute ago, they both said they felt funny, and all of a sudden they're all over each other right in front of me."

Even as she speaks, Bucky moans louder and says, "Fuck yeah – I gotta get you inside me."

"Not in front of us, you don't!" Sam marches over to the writhing pile of want and muscles and grabs Steve's wrists, extricating his hands from Bucky's boxer briefs. That he's able to overpower Steve at all speaks volumes about Steve's level of distraction. "Just from what I've seen the past ten seconds, I know _way_ too much about your sex life as it is."

As Sam drags Bucky off Steve's lap, Bucky makes a despairing noise, reaching toward Steve, who slumps in his seat, sporting a hell of a tent in the front of his underwear. Nat wouldn't mind spending a little more time ogling – with his damp hair askew, his eyes dark with lust, his lips reddened by nibbling kisses, and his nipples hard enough to cut glass, he looks like the embodiment of sex – but, cherishing the friendship they've cultivated over the years and refusing to disrespect him, especially in such a compromised state, she wraps the blanket around him again in an attempt to preserve his dignity.

"Nat, I need Bucky," Steve murmurs, his voice soft but urgent, as she tucks the corners of the blanket beneath his legs to hold it in place. "Don't let Sam take him from me!"

"He's not taking Bucky," Nat says, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Bucky-boy will be right up in the cockpit with me," Sam adds, snatching the other blanket off the floor and swaddling Bucky in it, but not before Nat catches a glimpse that affirms he's in the same state as Steve: rumpled, aroused, and vulnerable. Bucky sobs dryly, giving a weak attempt at breaking free from Sam, who steers him up front and straps him into the copilot's seat. "We'll be home in twenty minutes, bud. Just sit tight for a little while, and then you can have all the Steve you can handle."

"Tony," Nat says, switching on her comm unit again, "you there?"

"Hey," Tony replies immediately. "'Sup, killer?"

"We've got a situation," she says, standing in a strategic position between the cabin and the cockpit, keeping one eye on Steve, whose squirming is both pronounced and alarming. "Cap and Barnes inhaled some kind of contaminant. We're on our way back, and I ran them through decon and gave them oxygen, but they're both compromised."

Tony's jovial mannerism makes way for a crisp, businesslike tone. "Compromised how?"

"I..." Nat glances at Steve, who has his head tipped back against the wall, his breath rushing in and out through his mouth, and she turns away. "I'll explain when we get there. Round up Bruce and meet us in the common room. If anybody else is there, shoo 'em out. This is a little... delicate."

"I can't begin to imagine what the hell you're talking about, but okay. Get back here on the double."

Over the sound of Steve's bereft moans to her right and Bucky's to her left, Natasha closes her eyes and replies, "Got it."

**.

When the jet lands, Sam releases Bucky's seat belt, and he immediately bolts for the cabin, where he and Steve collide in what may be the most passionate reunion kiss Nat has ever witnessed. "God, I hope Tony and Bruce can come up with an antidote for whatever this is," Sam mutters as Bucky lifts Steve into his arms, guiding Steve to wrap his legs around Bucky's waist, their lips locked all the while. They're both still in little more than their underwear, but neither Nat nor Sam is up to the challenge of trying to get the two of them dressed.

Nat can only shake her head, heaving a weary sigh as she plants her hands on Bucky's back and pushes him – literally carrying Steve, who clings to him like a barnacle – toward the hatch. Sam and Nat have to flank the two of them, who are so deeply absorbed in their kissing and necking that they aren't even watching where they're going.

The second their unlikely group reaches the common room, Bucky throws Steve onto one of the tan leather couches and falls on top of him, Steve's legs snaking around his waist again. Making tea in the kitchenette, Bruce stares at them for a second before turning to Nat and Sam. "This is all because of a _plant_?" he asks, as incredulous as his kind, soothing demeanor allows, and Nat nods, sinking into his arms. She's not sure if she needs comfort or a distraction at this point.

She's about to speak – even if her voice might not be heard, muffled as it will be in Bruce's chest, not to mention drowned out by the louder moans and panting from the two teammates they're all deliberately not looking at – when Tony screeches from the doorway, "Jesus H. Christ in a Lamborghini – what are you two _doing_?" He strides into the room, barefoot in jeans and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, and stops by the quite occupied couch, turning his head this way and that as he scrutinizes the scene. "I can't tell where one ends and the other starts," he says over his shoulder, and Sam ushers him over to where Nat and Bruce huddle in the kitchenette.

"So this is what you meant by _compromised_?" Tony asks, clearly amused, if his shit-eating grin is any indication.

"Yeah, laugh it up, Tin Man," Sam snaps, and Tony looks at him in shock. "You might find this hilarious, but I sure as hell don't. There's something _seriously_ wrong with them. If there wasn't, you think we'd see Steve throwing every last inhibition out the window in front of all of us like this? No matter how madly in love they are, they'd never act like this if they weren't fucked up on something. They're dry-humping in their goddamn _underwear_ , Tony."

"I can see that." Tony stands on tiptoe, craning his neck to catch another glimpse. "Not dry for long, I'm guessing."

The others turn, and Nat makes a small sound of despair at the sight of Bucky on his knees on the floor, mouthing at Steve's dick through his underwear, obviously seconds away from commencing what will undoubtedly be a much appreciated blowjob. At that exact moment, Wanda appears in the doorway, her face buried in a book. She glances up at the sound of the heady moans coming from the couch, and her already huge eyes grow larger still, her mouth forming a soundless O of horror.

Nat sprints across the room and turns Wanda away from the scene, gripping both of her hands. "Everything's okay," Nat says as Wanda's eyes fill with tears. "I was hoping you wouldn't have to see that. Steve and Bucky breathed something in that's making them, uh – act funny, and—"

"Nat, I know what sex is," Wanda says wryly, swiping at the fat tears that roll down her smooth cheeks, flushed with embarrassment.

"Right." Nat shakes her head just as the other men separate Bucky and Steve, both of whom begin complaining immediately.

"Nooo," Bucky whines, reaching out with both hands as Bruce pulls him to his feet and drags him a few feet away. "Gimme my Stevie! Sam, you said when we got home, I could have him!"

Tony snorts, and Nat glares at him past Wanda before returning her attention to the younger woman. "Whatever they inhaled took away _all_ of their inhibitions. They've been like this since we got on the Quinjet."

"What are we going to do?" Wanda asks, turning to Bruce, her eyes resting on Bucky – shirtless, sweaty, and struggling, his gray boxer briefs barely containing his erection – for a nanosecond before skipping to Bruce's face. She keeps her back to Steve, and a surge of pity overwhelms Nat for a moment; Steve's been a big brother figure to Wanda from day one, and Nat doesn't have to imagine how shaken Wanda must be, because she knows the feeling firsthand.

"Let me have him," Steve growls, giving a halfhearted attempt at pulling away from Sam and Tony. "Bucky's _mine_ , Bruce – I want him back!"

Bucky slumps with his back against Bruce, an expression of utter despair washing over his face. "Okay, here's the plan," Tony says, his tone brisk. "Wanda, we're going to take care of this. You head back to your place, read your book, watch a movie, or something. None of us needs to see this, but least of all you. Call Vision; he'll keep you company. Bruce and I are headed to the lab to formulate an antidote to this sex pollen or whatever the hell it is. Nat and Sam, you guys get these horny grandpas to their room. Somebody needs to keep an eye on them, make sure they stay put. The last thing we need is HD video all over the internet of our resident geriatrics fucking on the roof or something. And we need to make sure they don't, uh – y'know, hurt themselves getting too rough or anything."

"Gah!" Sam covers his face for a moment. "I am _not_ staying in the room and watching two of my friends have sex with each other. Sorry, but I have to draw the line somewhere. I'll sit outside their door and make sure they don't get out."

Tony appears about to object, but Nat holds up a hand. "I'll stay with them. As awkward as it might be, it's better that than have one of them end up in the hospital with internal injuries or something."

"You sure, sweetheart?" Bruce asks, concern painting his beloved features, and Nat smiles a little, nodding.

"I'm sure."

"Widow, you might want to take an umbrella," Tony calls as Nat and Sam direct Steve and Bucky, still struggling to reach each other, out of the common area toward their quarters, "so you don't end up _taking one for the team_ , if you know what I mean."

"Stark, if you don't want me to remind you in graphic detail of all the torture methods I know involving metal instruments and a man's testicles, you better shut your mouth."

He does.

"Let's go, guys," Sam says, dragging Bucky up the hall by the elbow as Nat follows with her arm around Steve's waist. He's sweaty enough that his t-shirt is damp, and he staggers along with Nat all but holding him up, keeping her eyes averted from his lower half, although it's not easy, considering the size of the protrusion distending his shorts.

"Please let me have him," Steve begs, looking down at Nat, his pupils enormous and nearly swallowing the brilliant blue of his irises. His forehead is dotted with beads of sweat, his normally pale Irish skin pink, and his brow is furrowed in obvious desperation.

"We will," Nat soothes, giving him a reassuring smile. "We just have to get you back to your room."

Steve groans, wincing as if in discomfort, but says nothing else, and they reach the door to Steve and Bucky's suite within moments. F.R.I.D.A.Y. unlocks the door as they approach, and Sam murmurs his thanks to the AI as they herd their charges inside.

"Okay," Natasha says, releasing Steve, and he gives her a giddy, utterly beautiful grin as he rushes to Bucky's side and wraps Bucky in his arms. Sam backs away in a hurry, nearly knocking Nat over in his haste, and together they watch Steve push Bucky against the wall to ravish him with deep, frantic kisses, Bucky's hands sliding down Steve's back to grip his ass over his underwear.

"You're in for a hell of a show," Sam says, shaking his head.

Over the sound of Bucky's breathy groans and sighs, Nat nods. "Looks that way."

"I'll be just out in the hall. If you need me, my comm's on."

Nat gives him a tense smile. "Thanks, Sam. I'll let you know if I need backup."

"Just stay the hell out of their way," Sam says with a wry grin. "Pretend they're jungle cats: fun to watch from afar, but hella dangerous up close."

"Go sit in the hall." Nat pushes him out the door and closes it on his cackling.

When she turns around, she sucks in a quick breath at what she sees happening not five feet from her. Both men are completely naked now, and Bucky is back on his knees in front of Steve, but this time with no fabric barrier between his eager mouth and Steve's quite frankly huge dick. Nat closes her mouth so fast her teeth snap together, and she turns away, feeling awkward and guilty and far more turned on than she's willing to admit, even to herself. "Nat," Steve says, his voice a low, sultry rasp, and she hazards a glance to find Steve looking at her with eyes that have no right to look as innocent and trusting as they do. "You gonna stay with us?"

"I—" Hating herself for it, she glances down again, her cheeks heating at the sight of Bucky sucking Steve's cock, his metal hand gripping Steve's hip, his flesh one sliding up Steve's chiseled abs. "I have to," she says, distress flickering over her face. "I'll stay out of your way, and I won't watch; I'll just—"

"It's okay." Bucky pulls his mouth off Steve's dick, nuzzling against it instead with his cheek as he flicks his lust-darkened gray eyes to Nat. His already full, pink lips are swollen, red, and mesmerizingly glossy. "You can watch. We don't mind."

More than Nat's face is on fire now, heat spreading to every extremity and pooling like lava in her abdomen. "I don't – you guys—"

Bucky rises to his feet, sliding his palms up and over Steve's stomach and chest, crossing his wrists behind Steve's neck, and tugging him forward. Their lips meet again in a panting, needy kiss as Bucky pulls Steve deeper inside their living quarters. Snaking a hand between them to stroke Bucky's cock – also impressive, Natasha notes helplessly – Steve steers Bucky around the couch that sits in the center of the living room, pushing him into a sitting position and falling to his knees on the floor between Bucky's splayed legs. From where she stands, uncertain, by the front door, Nat loses sight of Steve as he ducks down further still, but judging by the way Bucky throws his head back and releases a guttural moan, she can imagine what Steve is up to.

Bucky rolls his head to the side, breathing heavily, and meets Nat's eyes, giving her a smile that is obviously well practiced and designed to burn the panties off any woman within a hundred yard radius. She's obviously not immune to it; as he crooks his finger to beckon her closer, she steps forward as if tied to it by an invisible string.  Still looking at her, Bucky sighs, whimpers, then says, "Come sit in the chair, _Лисичка_. You can't see how beautiful he is from over there."

Steve chuckles, and the sound is muffled; Nat confirms with a scalding hot shiver as she skirts the couch to settle into the overstuffed armchair nearby that his mouth is stuffed with Bucky's cock. Curling her legs beneath her, Nat licks her lips and fights to control her breathing, her wide green eyes taking in the sight of Steve on his knees, bracketing Bucky's ribcage with his hands, sucking Bucky's cock like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

"Oh, yeah," Bucky sighs, threading his fingers through Steve's short blond hair as Steve's head bobs in his lap, his slick red mouth stretched wide and sliding up and down Bucky's length. "Take that dick, sugar."

Steve hums, his throat working as he forces himself to take Bucky deeper, pressing slowly but methodically downward until his nose touches the line of fine, dark hair trailing down Bucky's flat abdomen. Bucky grips the arm of the couch with his free hand, the fabric making an alarming tearing sound, and releases a broken sob. His mouth sliding slowly up and off Bucky's cock, Steve casts his eyes upward, a gossamer strand of saliva briefly connecting his full lower lip to Bucky's glistening flesh.

"God, that mouth," Bucky whispers, cupping Steve's jaw and rubbing the pad of his thumb over Steve's lips. "Fuck, honey, I never want you to stop, but you gotta let me taste you." Steve sways a little on his knees, dazed, and Bucky leans in to kiss him in a brief tangle of tongues before moving further down the couch and patting the cushion he just vacated. "C'mon up here," Bucky murmurs, "you know how I want you."

Climbing onto the couch on his knees, Steve bends and rests his elbows on the arm of the couch, throwing a look back over his shoulder at Bucky, who licks his lips, his eyes sweeping over Steve's body, arranged in supplication before him. Another full-body flush overtakes Nat as she realizes exactly what Bucky has planned in the instant before he does it, and she bites her lips together to stifle the sound that wants to break free as Bucky buries his face in Steve's ass, his eyes reverently closed, his mouth and tongue making obscene, wet sounds; these are nearly inaudible, however, over Steve's fervent gasps and moans, even if he does have his face pressed into his forearms. "Oh, Bucky," Steve groans when he lifts his head, his eyes rolling back, and Bucky responds with a muffled hum, pausing to nip at one of Steve's firm, round ass cheeks before delving between them with his tongue again.

"You there, Nat?"

She startles at the voice from the comm unit in her ear, climbing out of the chair and hurrying down the hall to duck into the bedroom before responding. "I'm here, Bruce. Any good news for me?"

"We've identified the plant, thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s intensive search tech. It's an extremely rare flowering vine found within one square mile of Indonesian rainforest and nowhere else in the world, and it's called _Ceropegia libido_ , colloquially known as the vine of desire."

"Seriously?" Nat leans against the wall just inside the bedroom door, letting the back of her head thump the wall.

"I know. Tony laughed." Bruce pauses, and Nat smirks, knowing the look he must be shooting Tony. "Anyway, I'm sure you've already surmised the reason for the plant's name. The effect of the pollen and even the vine itself is somewhat of a closely guarded secret in Indonesian culture. Of those who believe it exists, only a very, very few have ever encountered it for themselves. It's considered a symbol of fertility—"

"Gee, I wonder why."

"The plant's rarity made it hard for us to find the chemical composition of its pollen, which is essential for us to formulate an antidote for its effects, but we've isolated the compound responsible for the, uh, ailment Steve and Bucky are experiencing. How are you holding up?"

"I'm… okay, I guess." Nat presses cool fingers against her flaming cheek. "So far, the boys haven't had time to get up to anything too athletic, although it won't be long."

"I'm sure. Let me know if you need anything, and don't hesitate to call Sam in if you need help, no matter how scarred he thinks he'll be just setting foot in there."

"Okay." Nat pushes herself off the wall, eyeing the disheveled bed in front of her, her mouth going dry at the thought of what the boys could get up to – and sure _have_ gotten up to – amidst its rumpled sheets. That thought feels too intrusive, though – even after everything she's seen today – so she pushes it aside. "Bruce?"

"Mmm?"

"Love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

Nat returns to the living room to find her charges in an entirely new position, and she makes a soft, involuntary sound as she sinks into the chair again, wide-eyed. Bucky is once again seated, this time with Steve in his lap, Steve's back pressed tightly against Bucky's front, Bucky's dick buried inside Steve, the two of them moving together as one sinuous being. Steve's cock – rigid, flushed, and leaking – bobs unchecked against his stomach with every movement, as both of Bucky's hands, both flesh and vibranium, are occupied, firmly kneading Steve's thick, muscular pecs. Every time Bucky's fingers graze his nipples, Steve gasps and shudders, and when Bucky sinks his teeth into the side of Steve's neck, Steve lets out a hoarse cry that sets fire to the blood rushing through Nat's veins.

"That's it," Bucky purrs, nibbling up the shell of Steve's ear. "Ride my cock, sweetheart. Don't touch yourself. I want to make you come just like this, just by squeezing your beautiful tits and fucking your perfect ass."

"Yes," Steve gasps, bracing one foot on the couch beside Bucky's thigh and giving himself better leverage to meet Bucky's thrusts with his own forceful downward movements. "Oh _God_ , Buck..."

They pay her no mind, so lost in each other they've apparently forgotten about her. Nat is grateful for it; she's sure her face is nearly as red as her hair, and she's starting to sweat. She can feel a bead of moisture trickling down the center of her chest. Bucky's adoring dirty talk helps matters exactly none; every deliciously smutty word out of his mouth, breathed or murmured or moaned against Steve's skin, is painfully audible from her vantage point.

"You're so beautiful, sugar," Bucky growls. "Fuck, you're tight. Love fucking your sweet ass, Stevie. You feel so good on my cock. 'M I hitting the spot, gorgeous? Gonna make you come so hard you forget your name. Ohhh, Jesus Christ, look at you. Just perfect, every part of you." He lets out a broken groan and kisses Steve's shoulder, brushing his thumbs over Steve's nipples again and drawing a sob of pleasure from Steve.

Nat's guilt over watching her friends in such a vulnerable state is slowly but surely being overtaken by her helpless arousal, and she crosses her legs tightly, trying to tamp down the throbbing physical sensation and only making it worse. She's almost unbearably wet, and if she had any less self control, she would probably have her hand down her uniform pants by now.

She doesn't, but _damn_ , is she tempted.

Steve's moans grow sharper, louder, and Bucky's upward thrusts become faster and more forceful in response. "That's right, baby," Bucky pants, his hands falling from Steve's chest to grip his hip bones, yanking him harder and harder onto Bucky's dick. "I'm gonna fill you up, nice and hot, till I'm leaking right out of you. You want that?"

Steve's reply comes in the form of a boneless nod and a grunt, and he reaches back to fist one hand in Bucky's long, dark hair; with his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks pink, his hairline damp, and his mouth slack, Nat can't take her eyes off Steve as he rides Bucky hard and fast. His rhythm falters and his untouched cock jerks, painting milky streaks up his admirably muscled tummy, a deep, gasping cry falling from his full lips.

"Oh my God," Nat breathes, awed, watching Steve fall apart; seconds later, Bucky follows suit, freezing with Steve pinned tightly against him and releasing an impossibly sensual groan into Steve's skin. Panting and glistening with sweat, they collapse together against the back of the couch, Bucky's hands wandering over Steve's body in a way that seems almost as comforting as it does sexual.

"You're so good, baby," Bucky murmurs, and Steve twists his upper body just enough to wrap an arm around Bucky's neck and meet his lips in a soft, languid kiss.

"That was fucking amazing," Steve says with a lazy smile. "Wanna go again?"

Bucky's lustful smirk says it all. "Hell yeah, I do. I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk for a week."

Nat is a little afraid he's not exaggerating. "Hey, guys," she says, keeping her voice low and soothing, and they turn their heads as one and blink at her, their eyes still clouded with the effects of the pollen they inhaled. "Take it easy on each other. Remember, I'm here to make sure you don't screw each other to death."

"This is nothing, _Лапочка_ ," Bucky says, chuckling. "We can go for hours."

Face aflame, Nat nods, attempting a reassuring smile. She can't help noticing that Bucky is still half hard and Steve fully erect. This is especially apparent when Bucky guides Steve to stand in front of him, turning him gently and lapping at the come streaking his abdomen. "Fuck, you taste good," Bucky mumbles, gripping Steve's magnificent ass with his metal hand and holding Steve's dick with the other, licking his way up the underside before taking it all the way to the back of his throat in one stroke. Steve cries out, steadying himself with both hands buried in Bucky's hair, and when Bucky pulls back, he's smirking. "Want me to stop?"

"I want you on your back." Steve reaches for a bottle Nat hadn't noticed sitting on the end table between the couch and the chair where she sits, pouring the clear, viscous liquid into the palm of his hand and slathering his dick with it. Bucky reclines on his back, stretching his long legs on either side of Steve, who climbs onto the couch between Bucky's legs and shifts his weight on top of Bucky, dipping down for a deep kiss.

"You ready for me, honey?" Steve rumbles, and Bucky nods, wrapping his legs around Steve's hips.

"Fuck me till I cry."

Nat sinks further into the chair, her entire body overheated and weak and trembling, her breaths coming short and quick. When Bucky moans, low and rasping, as Steve pushes inside him in one long, slow stroke, Nat barely resists the urge to slide her hand between her tense thighs, which are pressed so tightly together her hips are starting to ache with the effort.

Steve starts off pumping slowly into Bucky, whose ankles cross at the small of Steve's back, and Nat can't help staring, admiring the flex of muscle in Steve's thighs and ass and the gleam of Bucky's hair where it fans out beneath his head and spills off the side of the couch. They're beautiful individually, but together, they're nothing less than sublime, and in the haze of sweat and lust permeating the room, despite her guilt at intruding on their intensely private moment, Nat nonetheless feels blessed at having such an opportunity.

If nothing else, this will fuel her fantasies – both sexual and romantic – for years to come.

As Steve picks up the pace, snapping his hips forward and forcing delirious cries from Bucky's throat, Bruce's voice once again interrupts via her comm earpiece. "Hey, Nat, copy?"

Reluctant to pull herself away, Nat retreats to the bedroom again before she answers, dismayingly breathless. "I'm here."

"Everything okay?" Bruce's voice drips concern, and its familiar soft, calming timbre both soothes and excites her, both emotions heightened in her keyed up state.

"It's all good. They haven't stopped since we got here, so thank God for whatever version of the serum each of them got, but they're not being rough or anything."

He pauses momentarily, and when he speaks again, a smile tinges the edges of his words. "Hmm. Okay. Well, I have good news: we managed to come up with an antidote for the pollen's effects. It's in the centrifuge right now. As soon as it's distilled, we'll be down with two syringes. Are they going to put up any resistance?"

Creeping down the short hallway, Nat peeks around the corner, heat rushing through her again at the sight of Steve and Bucky entwined and writhing together across the room. "Nah. They'll be too distracted. If Tony's coming with you to do this, warn him—"

Bruce snorts laughter. "He's a big boy. He'll deal with it."

"Not what I meant. You warn him if he makes one off-color comment – even _one_ – I'll make his life a living hell." It comes out much more forcefully than she intended, at least toward Bruce, but she can't ignore the truth of the statement. For her to allow Tony to turn something as pure and perfect as what Steve and Bucky share into something tawdry, especially after witnessing it firsthand, would be unforgivable.

After a moment, Bruce replies, his voice gentle. "Your heart amazes me every day, Natasha. We'll be down in a few minutes, okay?"

Her pulse quickens; suddenly, she can hardly wait to get her hands on him. "See you then."

Bucky is shuddering his way through another orgasm when Nat returns, perching on the edge of her chair to watch him come down as Steve fucks him through it. "Ah, God, Stevie," Bucky pants as the wave ebbs. "C'mon, keep fucking me hard with that big dick. I gotta feel you come inside me, baby, don't stop – _ungh_ , don't stop; fuck! I'm coming again, don't stop,  _don't stop_ –"

Howling and digging his fingers into Steve's back, Bucky bows off the couch again, legs still locked around Steve's waist. Steve's awed expression crumbles as he follows Bucky into panting, moaning oblivion, thrusting hard into him a few more times before stilling. "Jesus Christ, Buck," Steve manages an instant before Bucky grabs the back of his head and yanks him down for another kiss. They're still kissing, deep and passionate, when a light knock sounds at the door, and Nat answers it, her every extremity tingling, to find Bruce standing there with Tony all but vibrating right behind him. Sam, for his part, merely waves from his seated position on the floor nearby.

"Did you tell him?" she hisses, and Bruce gives her a warm smile and a nod.

"He'll be on his best behavior. Won't you, Tony?"

"Yeah, yeah – no comments from the peanut gallery. Got it," Tony says with a flippant wave of his hand. "Come on, let's get these oversexed geriatrics shot up before they break a hip or something."

Nat levels a glare at him, and he claps a hand over his mouth, mumbling an apology. She steps aside, letting them in, and when Bruce inadvertently brushes against her with his upper arm on his way past, she nearly collapses. "You okay?" he asks, strong eyebrows drawing together in concern as he steadies her with his hands on her waist.

With a weak smile, she nods, pulling away from his strong hands, fearing the contact alone will cause her body to react in ways she has no intention of allowing Tony Stark to witness.

As for Tony, they find him hovering a fair distance from the couch with a dismayed but strangely curious expression on his face; in the short time Nat's attention had been diverted, the boys have recommenced their activities. This time, Bucky's kneeling with his lower back braced against the arm of the couch, and Steve's straddling his lap, rocking against him with his arms around Bucky's neck and Bucky's hands roaming over Steve's back. The way they stare into each other's eyes sends a shiver down Nat's back, and she sinks into the chair again to disguise the way her knees have turned to jelly.

"Boys," she says, and they drag their lips apart to look at her with their glassy eyes. "Bruce is going to give each of you a little injection, okay?"

"You won't even feel it," Bruce adds, low and soothing. "Your endorphin levels are probably off the charts."

Neither Steve nor Bucky responds aside from the soft moans they release as their mouths meet again.

"Jesus. I'll never make another crack about Cap being a virgin," Tony mutters. "He's really taking it like a champ, huh? Fucking hell, Rogers, how do you fit all that in those little tights?"

"Tony," Nat snarls, and he gives her an innocent shrug.

"What? It's not my fault our elderly leader's hung like a goddamn horse!"

Glowering, Nat grabs Tony by the back of the neck and shoves him toward the door. "Out! Bruce and I will handle this. If I hear you've said one fucking word to make Cap _or_ Barnes uncomfortable about _any of this_ , I swear on all that's holy, you'll live to regret it." As she yanks open the door with her free hand, she tightens the grip of her fingers on his neck, ignoring his squeak of protest, and hisses in his ear, "I know four methods of castration, two of which I could perform without even taking off your goddamn Armani pants." With that, she shoves him into the hallway and slams the door behind him.

Bruce is doing a terrible job of suppressing a grin when she stalks back to him, breathing heavily. "God, I love you."

Nat laughs a little, cutting her eyes toward the afflicted lovers, who are so immersed in each other they apparently didn't hear a thing. "I love you, too. Now let's get this over with and give these guys their dignity back."

"Hon," Bruce murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear, which prompts another shiver to course through her, "you've done the most to help them hang onto it in the first place. Who should we inject first?"

"Steve started coughing first."

"Okay. Just a little poke on the shoulder, Cap, and then you'll probably feel a bit sleepy..."

**

Once the deed is done, Nat and Bruce leave Steve and Bucky tucked into bed, wrapped around each other and already starting to doze. They'll definitely need a shower and a fresh set of sheets when they awaken. Now that the sexual festivities are over, Sam is willing to stay with them, sitting in the armchair – he wants nothing to do with the couch and its not-so-mysterious wet spots – and watching Netflix while he waits for them to wake up to ensure there are no lasting or unforeseen side effects from the pollen. Tony is nowhere to be seen; Nat suspects he has slunk back to the lab to lick his psychic wounds. Good; she's more than happy to let him stew. It'll give him ample opportunity to consider her absolutely legitimate threat.

"You hungry?" Bruce asks as they head up the hallway toward the common area.

Nat gives him a loaded look, halting him as they're about to pass the door to their suite. "You have no idea."

"What—" Bruce breaks off with a surprised laugh as Nat fists both hands in his shirt and pushes him against the door, pulling his head down to ravage his mouth with hers. Blindly, Bruce waves his key card in front of the sensor and stumbles backward through the door with Nat attached to him, kicking the door shut with her black tactical boot. "Mmph – sweetheart," Bruce mumbles against her lips, pressing her against the wall. "That whole thing really wound you up, huh?"

She moans, tipping her head back against the wall. "Bruce, _please_ , shut up and touch me before I go insane!"

He only just barely gets his warm, steady hand down the front of her pants before she goes off like a shot. It's the first of many times he'll get her off before morning; neither of them sleeps until after the sun comes up.

**

It's well after noon the following day when Bruce gently shakes Nat awake. "Hey," he murmurs with a smile, dressed in his boxers and yesterday's undershirt, his dark, curly hair rumpled and finger-combed. "Somebody sent you something. Come see."

Slipping into one of Bruce's old flannel shirts, she shuffles out of the bedroom in her bare feet, still buttoning the shirt as she does. On the coffee table sits a gift basket so big it makes her jaw drop, swathed in deep burgundy organza. She blinks at Bruce, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her temple, slipping an envelope into her hand. "It came with this," he says, letting her sink onto the couch in disbelief as she slits open the envelope with one finger and pulls out a small card with a sunflower printed on the front.

 _Dear Nat,_ it reads in Steve's familiar, no-nonsense scrawl. _Yes, we remember everything that happened yesterday, so don't mind us if we never show our faces again. All that aside, Bucky and I are more grateful than we can ever tell you for treating us with compassion and dignity and insisting on nothing less from anyone else. You are the best. With all our love, Steve and Bucky_

Blinking away tears, she smiles, shaking her head, and removes the delicate fabric wrapping from the gift basket. It's piled high with wines, various teas, candles, ridiculously feminine bath products – very few people alive know bubble baths are her favorite thing in the world – and more chocolate than she'll ever know what to do with. The whole thing just screams _Steve Rogers_ , who knows her entirely too well, but she can't suppress a torrent of surprised, not quite hysterical laughter when she unearths what is obviously Bucky's contribution to the gift: a Rohrbaugh R9 Stealth Elite handgun with its signature diamond black and stainless finish.

Bruce just shakes his head.

**

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translations:
> 
> Лисичка (pronounced lisichka) = little fox  
> Лапочка (pronounced lapochka) = sweetheart


End file.
